Clockwork Angel
by Eve-the-Charlotte
Summary: AU!APH "Run, run, as fast as you can!"  In which Alfred gets himself into a situation, only to be rescued by a mysterious stranger.  Russia/America.  Rated high T for content and language.


_Clockwork Angel _by_ Eve-the-Charlotte_

Pairing: Russia/America

Disclaimer: The disclaimer I was about to give you guys ran away with Alfred. Sorry for the inconvenience. Simply, I don't own Hetalia: Axis Powers.

I meant to turn this thing into a full-blown story, but I never got around to it, and it's been sitting on my back-up computer since forever (my regular computer just crashed), so I gave up and will present this to you as a little one-shot. Who knows, I could write more in this little parallel universe. Anyways, enjoy!

(Clockwork)

"_Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me; I'm the gingerbread man!"_

(Clockwork)

"Run, motherfucker, run," Alfred whispered to himself as he practically flew down the abandoned street. No one seemed to be present on the main drag, another sign that Al didn't fit into this insignificant town. However, the first sign was much more pressing at the moment, as _they_, the evil motherfuckers who were chasing him since he saw what they did to that little kid, were closing in on him. _They, _whom Alfred couldn't look at directly without wanting to piss himself and vomit in revulsion at the same time. _They, _who were now taunting him, in that odd language that he shouldn't be able to understand, but did. _They_, who had haunted his dreams since before he could remember.

"_Come on, little boy, scaredy-cat, you cannot outrun us, nor outmaneuver us. Come on, pig child, son of worms, stop fleeing. You know we will catch you anyway, dog-shit. Stop, you fucking cunt," they_ screeched, their voice getting louder, higher, more bloodthirsty, even more angry by the second. Still, Alfred ran, ran as though Hell were at his heels, Satan leading the charge. He could feel _their _breaths on him, could smell the stench of the blood and gore radiating off of them, could hear _their_ screams getting high with delight, with ecstasy, with triumph.

Alfred stepped up the pace, going faster than he ever had. He prayed to God these-these _things _didn't know anything about his family and old friends, so _they_ wouldn't go after them. His body mattered not now, and his soul was merging with infinity, as though only he existed in this universe now; he was a master of Nature, and he couldn't stop, could never stop, not if he didn't want to die. . .

Alfred's vision was blurring as firecrackers went off in his brain. His body was shutting on and off, going rigid and starting to shake with violent tremors. Dear God, he couldn't go on; he was succumbing to the black. Fire danced in his view, flames licked at his skin, and his teeth was cutting through his tongue. His body was betraying him for his stupidity, for his foregoing of taking his medication and _then_ walking the streets alone, so completely all alone. He was face down on the pavement. He could feel the ghosts and ghoulies and haints surrounding him, about to devour him whole for _daring_ to interrupt their timeless rituals. Alfred wanted to scream, but his jaw was locked. He could taste blood in his mouth, dribbling down his lips and chin, like a sick macabre of drool. He never even found Mattie, his sweet little brother, the reason he'd come here in the first place. . .

Suddenly, Al sensed another presence, different from the monsters. The haints hissed like snakes at the newcomer. Alfred then heard a laugh, on the surface kind and gentle, but on the inside like hate and war and sadism and sin. He then heard the sound of fallen angels dying, like nothing he had heard in his conscious reality, only in his dream-world. He then heard the stranger whisper in that forbidden, taboo tongue those monsters would use.

"The мальчик belongs to me, да? So you демонов will not touch him. I am understood, of course," the last question was spat out with such coldness wrapped in a childlike tone that the beasts only whimpered as they presumably dragged their fallen comrades back to Hell. At least, that's where Alfred assumed they came from. He chanced his seizure-stricken body to look at his savior. Of course, his body wouldn't let him that glorious chance.

Al felt a tremendous force, and his jaw slid open. He felt some liquid being forced down his throat. How strange; it tasted like blood. His mind finally, finally let him slip inside the black. Before the complete takeover, he heard a soft chuckle and a whisper of, "Милый мальчик, you are mine."

(Clockwork)

Russian to English Translations:

мальчик - boy

да - yes

демонов - demons

Милый мальчик - dear boy

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